


The Whimsical and Wonderful World of Lupin III

by QuillHeart



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Adulting, Domestic Fluff, Feel-good, Fluff, Gen, Multi, OT3, POV Third Person, Polyamory, Slice of Life, everyone gets along, heist plot in the background, maybe ot4 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 20:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillHeart/pseuds/QuillHeart
Summary: A series of domestic vignettes centering around Lupin’s quirks, as seen through the daily lives of his crew.





	The Whimsical and Wonderful World of Lupin III

**Author's Note:**

> These were just some fun drabbles I loosely hooked together. I'd like to do one chapter focusing on each character, including Zenigata.
> 
> Note: there's explicit sexual stuff in this, though not till the last one, #5.

#1

 

The plane flight had been a long one.  All Jigen wanted to do was get his bags and collapse somewhere, but of course, even that had issues.  His gate was on the end of the world; there was a dozen slow-moving people along the way that took up just enough room that he couldn’t get around them in the halls; and once he got out of the terminal, the conveyor belt took a long time to get loaded, the carousel number was changed half a dozen times, half the bags looked like his, and a couple of people had already asked him if he was a cowboy.  He had to turn down their requests for pictures, and he wondered, for the umpteenth time, where his “don’t fuck with me” city-dweller scowl had gone since meeting Lupin.

“Ah…man.”  As he watched the same green polka-dotted suitcase appear for a third time, Jigen set his weight to one side and rubbed the back of his neck.  It was feeling rather hot, thinking of that man.  “If I get all worked up thinking of him, I’ll never get any sleep tonight…”

And yet, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been thinking of him on the plane.  And on the taxi on the way to plane.  And in his hotel room, packing and dressing before the taxi arrived, with a hum in his voice and jaunt to his step.

And now, as that little warm smile on his lips turned itself into a hot ache in his chest…

“I’m not supposed to be the peppy one… What have you done to me?”

Luckily, no one heard his mutterings; they were all too busy chasing down misbehaving children or boring holes into the conveyor belt with their hallowed eyes.

Jigen’s hand slipped down to the phone in his pocket.  He flipped the phone open and gazed at the most recent message:

 _Waiting by Delta Airlines loading bay five_.  _Red car. It matches meee <3_

His boss…and more.  For a long time, he’d wondered if the man shined that dizzyingly sunny smile on him for reasons other than simple friendship.  And once it was confirmed that yes, it really was something more, Jigen had set his mind to wondering how in the world Lupin deemed him worthy of it.

Jigen sighed and gazed around under the brim of his hat, once more checking for anyone that might be undercover or otherwise suspicious.  The Red Jackets weren’t giving him surreptitious looks; no one in suit or civvies alike was talking into sleeves.  So far so good.

A buzz came from the phone.  Standing next to his overnight bag, which he’d brought with him from the plane, he opened the missive with his heart in his throat:

_What’s taking so long?  Everything good?_

Jigen smiled momentarily, then typed back with one hand: _Yeah.  Just regular airport junk._

He hit send, and not more than ten seconds later came the reply:  _Want me to sit with you?_

His smile grew to both sides of his mouth at that.  The ache in his chest lost its hard edges, settling into a warm smolder.

 _Nah_ , he typed. _Stay with the car.  There soon, hopefully._

He put the phone back in his pocket, and continued to eye the line of bags—and the people around them.

A lot of it was older guys, clearly going on business or golf trips.  But some of it was families.  The kids would wander, while the teens milled, and the adults grumbled.  But every time he saw a woman in a pretty dress appear from the parking lot and kiss one of those businessmen…

He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten so lucky.

Finally, among the ever-present clacking of the carousel came the last five bags, and among them was Jigen’s sniper rifle.  It was just in an old duffle, made to look as nondescript and impoverished as possible, with the hardcase hidden inside.  It was amazing he was allowed to go through checked baggage with it, let alone not get flagged by the FBI for it, but well, here he was, doing this for the umpteenth time, all perfectly legal.

He picked up the heavy case by the straps and wandered out.  As he did the typical sweep of the crowds for followers and unwanted attention, he couldn’t help but think about the last time: Lupin and Goemon waiting for him in the visitor’s lounge, sticking out like sore thumbs but chatting happily all the while despite it. 

Goemon’s stoic presence reading a book or meditating, while Lupin buzzed around on his devices like a bee, checking stocks, their marks, and the news.  And in between that, they’d be catching-up on conversation from being separated for months, each a little excited in their own way—but waiting for the best stories until all three of them were there. 

However, depending on how late in the night it was, and how long they’d been there without food, one or both of them would eventually be melting into the seats like a pancake.  Goemon tended to get shaky and grumpy when he went too long without a meal, while Lupin would get ever more energetic and then suddenly crash into a lump that was hard to extricate from whatever surface he was attached to.  But that, Jigen supposed, was what you got when you weighed 120 and ate nothing but carbs.

So Jigen would always show up to the rescue and give Goemon his extra granola bar, and Lupin his travel apple.  And if Fujiko was with them, well…she’d be flirting with everything and making the whole room glow, while eating an entire pizza.  Lupin, like a creature of the fey, would be nourished by her sheer gregariousness (and stealing a slice), while Goemon would be annoyed at the attention she was getting, but trying not to be (and also reluctantly accepting the pizza, as if it cost his firstborn child).

But tonight…

He stepped into the Miami heat in all black and looked around for Lupin’s car.  A line of people half an hour long waited at the taxi stand and a much shorter, but much more angsty, blob of people stood at the bus stop.  Cautiously making his way around the group, ever watchful for lurking danger, Jigen spotted Lupin’s car—and the engine wasn’t even on.

Lupin was standing against the bumper of the little sports car, gazing up at the birds.  They were under the overpass that made up the drop-off level, but near the edge of it; Lupin’s brilliant splash of crimson was backed up by a wash of Caribbean blue sky and palm trees glowing in the sunset.  He had his arms crossed loosely and his phone in one hand, tapping it idly against his elbow.

And then, as soon as he saw Jigen, his entire posture loosened.  He unfolded, his face lit up, and pretty soon he was bounding over, having abandoned his phone to the passenger’s seat.

“Jigen-chan!” he cried, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck.   Jigen caught the weight that plowed into him and couldn’t help but grin.  Lupin’s cologne hit his nose; Lupin’s holster pressed against his side.  Jigen twirled them around once, Lupin squealed like a child, and really, it was like he was living someone else’s beautiful dream for just a minute. 

“MMM-mwa!  How are you?” his thin partner asked as he was set down, after a tight hug and a harsh kiss to the cheek.  He stepped back breathlessly, hand still lingering on Jigen’s wrist—not quite wanting to let go yet.  “How was the flight?”

“Long,” Jigen offered with a tired set to his shoulders.  “I’m ready for a nap and some food and some you, though not necessarily in that order.”

“Aww,” Lupin said fondly, stepping back to survey him even as his cheeks tinged as pink as the sunset.  “You do look tired.”  He touched at Jigen’s face, then very slowly moved the brim of Jigen’s hat up to swipe across his forehead with a gentle thumb.  Jigen closed his eyes and let him; when his hand flittered away, Jigen searched him out once more.

Lupin had waited patiently all the while, and smiled as soon as Jigen looked down at him.  It was a calmer smile this time, though.  One that looked right through him—and always made him a little uncomfortable because of it.  But it was Lupin’s way of greeting, that soulful stare, and it got Jigen’s blood moving a little bit.  Because, while he thought it was an odd way to greet people, it looked just right in a bed.

“I’ve missed you,” Lupin stated quietly. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Jigen replied, unable to stop the small smile growing on his lips. 

“Can I help you carry anything?” Lupin asked, pointing at the duffle.

“Sure, if you want.  And thanks for picking me up.  You didn’t have to…”

“Cool.  And no worries; why wouldn’t I?  That’s what friends are for!”  He picked up the bag with a wink, and they headed for the car.  “And really, sports cars aren’t as cool without a good-looking passenger.”

He hip-checked Jigen playfully, and Jigen found himself rubbing the back of his neck again, the warmth from his chest rising into his face as they walked by the endless masses.

“Were there any interesting people on the flight?” Lupin continued, digging the key out of his pocket and clicking the button.

“A cute kid.  I helped her go through her counting and alphabet.  The mom seemed appreciative.”

“Hah.  With your scary face? Was she a rocker chick?”

“Very funny.” Jigen ribbed Lupin in the side as they got the trunk open.  Lupin laid the bags in and then rested on the bumper while Jigen unzipped the duffle to double-check the contents.

Muzzle, barrel, silencers.  Ammunition wasn’t allowed on planes, but Lupin had some in the trunk, he noticed.  And the right caliber and shape, how kind of him.  Jigen popped it in the duffle, since he knew it was for him.

“Hey Jigen.”

“Yeah?”

Just as he rezipped the bag and turned to his partner, a blur was coming right at him.

Lupin’s hands caught his wrists and held them down against the edge of the trunk, keeping him from recoiling.  And then, a split-second later—

A sweet peck of the lips set across his cheek bone.

As Jigen’s eyes widened, Lupin winked and then went for the driver’s side door, looking abashed.  “Let me know what you’re in the mood for, and I’ll recommend a few places!” he called as he dipped into the car with a wink.  “Food or otherwise!”

Once Jigen shut the trunk, he paused to get his bearings, idly touching at his tingling cheek. There, through the back windshield, he noticed that Lupin, up in the drever’s seat, was hiding his face in his hands and fidgeting with embarrassment, too.

_I guess he missed me more than I thought…._

That little smolder in Jigen’s chest grew stronger. 

But this time, he could feel it putting down roots, too; it wasn’t just blooming recklessly into the blazing sunshine.

And wasn’t that a wonderful, mysterious thing?

 

#2

 

American grocery stores were amazing things.  And every time Jigen came back from Europe—or South America, or hell, anywhere with space constraints and a conscience, really—it hit him with a vengeance.  It was almost overwhelming anymore, walking into an American superstore, when you were used to a tiny German Aldi’s or a Parisian bodega.

A carnival of consumerism, Superstores featured endless rows of product, each set up with perfect uniformity, to the point that you could instantly identify an empty spot. Products of every shape and size imaginable, lined up methodically by a special hierarchy whose formula included function, shape, size, brand, price, and usage.  Even the aisles were arranged to make logical sense, based on long hours of testing to figure out what people tended to buy in clusters. 

However, you could always tell certain things about the priorities of the chain (or their clients, at least) by the way they arranged their products: were diapers next to pads, or were they next to the beer? 

And the lighting.  The buildings were so often big rectangular warehouses with towering ceilings, where the bare minimum of effort was given to style the place and its concrete floors.  Long parallel rows overseen by low roofs with never-ending incandescent lighting that buzzed incessantly: the rat maze of modern life was personified by the beast known as the supermarket.

At least, that was the type of thing he thought about on his philosophical days.  Some days, he just popped in for groceries before a heist.  And heaven help them if he’d just met Lupin at the airport, because the giddiness Lupin inevitably exhibited when getting together after time away always turned into something like this:

Cold meds, pepto, eye drops, nail clippers.  All the things they need for a long few days together, that never seem to make it onto the plane.  And all the while, Lupin was giggling and twirling down the aisles.

Mixed with the intoxication of meeting up after a long day, and probably some sleepless nights getting things done to prepare for the heist too, all one-hundred pounds of his boss was basically legally drunk, flitting around the store with his red hand basket whirling around alongside his red coat tails.

Meanwhile, Jigen, who was honestly tired too, was tasked with keeping Lupin from running afowl of law enforcement, other criminals, and his own idiocy, all while trying not to shoot somebody.

So at this very moment in the haircare and shower aisle, whilst Jigen was sniffing a bodywash called “Passionate Spell,” there came a sharp gasp from his partner.

Jigen snapped his head to him, the bottle falling to the floor and his hand going for his gun.

But all that he saw was Lupin, basket situated politely on the floor between his legs, sniffing a deodorant.

Well, and staring curious daggers at Jigen for making the noise.  He hated loud noises, as it turned out; it screwed up his sensitive hearing for picking locks.

“You okay there?” Lupin asked, his look turning more placid as he remembered who he was chastising.

“Y-yeah…” Jigen muttered, somehow being the one apologizing and not knowing how Lupin weaseled that out of him.

After the heart attack had passed, Jigen put the bottle back on the shelf—thanking his lucky stars customer and associate alike was too jaded and underpaid to care about the noise—and came over to him.  Lupin was quickly uncapping different containers and sniffing them—and then giggling and putting them back.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jigen wondered affectionately, too tired to figure out better words.  “Sniffing the deodorants like a child?”

“Yeah,” Lupin admitted with glee.  “I haven’t perused in a while; always fun to check on what the commercial machine thinks men should smell like these days.”  He let out his magnetic, delightful laugh that made Jigen forget all about his troubles and aching body for want of kissing the man’s Adam’s apple and then popped open another one with his dizzyingly fine fingers.  He took a whiff Jigen could _hear_ , then crinkled his nose and shook his head out.

And then sneezed like a cat, looking a bit bleary-eyed and confused afterward. 

It should be noted that Lupin was actually allergic to most of the things in this aisle.  Multiple Chemical Sensitivity, albeit a very mild version of it, probably thanks to growing up in his grandfather’s stuffy old 19th-century mansion where absolutely nothing was made of plastic and everything was made of poisonous paste, paint, or varnish.  Still, it was part of why he was picky about where they stayed, why nobody could smoke certain brands in the car, and why he’d grown up to be several inches smaller than your average man in every aspect save the intangible ones.

“Hm, let me see,” Jigen said, cupping Lupin’s hand and bending down to sniff it like a flower.  “Ugh.”

It was terribly, chemically sweet.  It almost tasted granular in his mouth, somehow, with the scent alone.

Lupin quickly corked the stick and put it back on the shelf.

Jigen straightened up and realized that they were both standing in front of the Axe brand section.  And…

“Good God,” Jigen groaned, aghast.  “These names…”

“I know, right?” Lupin asked, face throwing some serious shade despite his smile.

“I mean look at this,” Jigen noted.  There had to be at least twelve kinds, text all vaguely different shades of blue on a backdrop of charcoal black.  The stick shape was angled in a way Art Deco architects would tell you was encoded as “masculine,” and made wide for male proportions, but otherwise there was nothing that screamed “guy” about it.  Especially when you considered—

“’Anarchy,’ ‘Phoenix,’ ‘ _Kilo’_? That’s a unit of measurement!  And ‘Dual’? Do you think they meant ‘Du _el_ ,’ with an E?” Jigen crinkled his nose with an exasperated huff.  “Does anyone actually buy into this ridiculous stuff?”

“I mean, I hope not,” Lupin intoned sagely as he pulled one off the shelf.  “But it does feel good to know my chosen scent is ‘Apollonian.’”

He held it in the air and danced it back and forth at Jigen, then tossed it in the basket.  It had aqua-green letters, writing “Apollo” in metallic capslock.

“You’re serious?  That’s what you wear?”

“When I’m stuck in America trying to be a cowboy, yup.”  He shrugged, then put his hands on his hips and looked at the shelves anew, weight on one skinny-jeaned leg.  “Axe doesn’t smell _bad_ , it just got a certain reputation when it first came out with aerosols because idiot college bros thought it made some magical musk when mixed with their stink and was a substitute for taking a proper shower.  _That’s_ what the fucking Victorians did, and damn, people _fainted_ all the time from the smell of the streets.  _That_ amount of any scent would knock people off their asses; kids are extra dumb these days I guess.”

“God, I remember that all too clearly,” Jigen muttered, taking another sniff of one called “Excite.”  It was piney, and refreshing, but a little too artificial for his tastes.  “Man, most of these aren’t all that different.  Just variations on a theme and different by one or two chemicals.”

“Yeah,” Lupin agreed, starting to go for the women’s section.  “Takes a lot of creativity to find seventeen different scents when you can’t use flowers.  Which always seemed odd to me—what’s wrong with smelling like roses?  Everybody likes roses.  And rose gardens.”

“But I mean, why need so many in the first place?  The formulas are all the same between brands.  And I mean, look at this?  These names are ridiculous.  ‘Dark Temptation’?  What is that?  Is that even a smell?  It’s a concept, what the hell—”

He uncorked it and took an angry whiff.

And then Jigen gasped, too.

“…What is it?” Lupin asked, pausing his own work to give him a dubious side-eye.

“Those bastards,” Jigen muttered, suddenly taking his eyes off an intense, faraway stare into nowhere-land to glare at his partner.  “This is Old Spice.”

He’d said it like a great wrong had been committed upon the world.  Lupin grinned.  “That’s what you wear, yeah?”

Lupin had always liked it...and, oddly enough, never been allergic to it.  Possibly because it was an old brand.

“Yeah,” Jigen swore, putting the offending deodorant back carefully, almost reverentially.  “Because men who don’t need to prove anything but have everything to give wear it.”

Indeed, the scent was a calming thing to Lupin on many a night, and one most American women associated with their sturdy, dependable fathers.  And while it was undoubtedly an American scent, it was of an old America, one that worked hard and asked for little, all without being told.  The brand was over a hundred years old at this point, and the original formula was one of the only ones you could buy without aluminum in it.  And it had cinnamon or nutmeg or all spice or something in it, just like pumpkin spice lattes, so really…

“Is that name so incorrect, then?” Lupin snickered, looking Jigen up and down with dangerous eyes.

He waited until Jigen turned back, then caught him in his glittering trap.  Jigen’s eyes widened, and he shot the rack a dark, conflicted glare.

But then, while he was deep in thought, Lupin sidled over silently and, molding his side into Jigen’s, slid his hand into Jigen’s back pocket.

“You know what I think we should steal?” he whispered into Jigen’s ear, and Jigen’s eyes fluttered shut.  But after waiting patiently for a moment, the sniper’s raven sharp eyes opened again, and he glanced down at Lupin with danger written on his fine features.  “The formula for Old Spice?”

Lupin’s toothy grin was deadly sharp.  “Exactly.”

Jigen chuckled and looked around, and, seeing no one, slid his hand into Lupin’s back pocket, too.  “Corporate espionage never smelled so good, the way it does on you,” he whispered into his partner’s neck, leaving a hungry kiss cooling in his wake.

Lupin purred, savoring the moment, but unfortunately soon freed himself from Jigen’s person and went for the basket.  “C’mon, we’d better get this show on the road, or else I don’t know what’s gonna happen by the time we get to the fruit-and-nut aisle.”

“Not the ‘meat section’?” Jigen lobbed back, tilting his hat down so that only his grin was visible.

Lupin, now with basket in hand, straightened his back and gave his partner a wry smirk over his shoulder—the eyes of which glittered with dark appreciation.  “Oh, you’re _bad_ , Jigen my sweet.  A bad, bad American cowboy, that’s gonna get me locked up for ‘crimes of passion’ someday…”

He winked, then headed down the aisle with a skip in his step.

He’d only gotten a few feet when Jigen slapped him on the ass, nearly as loud as the falling bottle.

“Should I pick up some Mane & Tail for this little colt I’m gonna be breaking in tonight?” he quipped.

Lupin almost tripped over himself from the attack, and nearly ended up on the floor besides from weak-kneed laughter.  “Oh my god,” he wheezed, bent over and bracing his hands on a shelf. “I wasn’t expecting that…”

“I aim to please,” Jigen assured, surreptitiously picking up a bottle of lube while Lupin recovered himself.

That, at least, didn’t have a stupid name.  It just got right down to business.

 

#3

 

They’d finally made it to the hotel, and after getting checked in and hanging up their clothes, Jigen promptly fell onto the bed.  Lupin, for his part, dropped down next to him and didn’t waste a moment flopping an arm onto him.  “Mine.”

“Hmmm,” Jigen hummed encouragingly.  It was a tired sound though, and he didn’t open his eyes.  “Tired.”

There was a little rustling and digging into the grooves, and then Lupin was properly nestled into the contours of his body.  “Me too.” 

Soft lips set against his forearm, then the side of a head.  And all the while, Jigen was drifting off into space, that warm, dark place between awake and asleep.

The spark in his chest had turned itself all the way down, a fuzzy, contented little hotspring.

“Missed you,” Lupin said with a yawn, pulling the thoughts out of his head.

“You too,” Jigen murmured, pulled for a moment a little closer to the waking world. He didn’t want that though, and took the only counter-Lupin measure he could at his current energy level: He captured the hand of Lupin’s that was sitting on his chest, then held it snugly.  Like that, he was determined to sleep.

And he almost made it, when—

“Hey,” Lupin whispered. “Jigen.”

“Mmmrng,” he growled.

“Thank you for coming.”

There was a hint of insecurity to his voice.  Well, more than a hint really.  It’d slap you in the face if you knew the type.

Jigen certainly knew the type, and luckily, he knew just what to do about it, too:

With a long breath, he pulled Lupin onto his front, shifting him just where he liked him.  Then, petting his hand down the man’s hair a few times, he announced, “Good Lupin,” and rested his hands on his boss’s back.  He never once opened his eyes, and in fact, now his head was tipped farther back on the pillows than it had been, his sigh a little deeper than the one before.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, partner.”

Even with his eyes closed, he knew Lupin was gazing at nothing as he lay on his chest, a fond smile on his face.

He hoped that meant the little flame in Lupin’s chest was smoldering, too.

As they slept, Jigen still held his hand.

 

#4

 

The next night, the two men were getting ready for the night’s events—namely, an infiltration con where Lupin and Fujiko would be working as waiters, and Jigen would be hamming it up among a bunch of wealthy doctors and lawyers that liked to hunt endangered game.

As it turned out, Fujiko happened to think animals were adorably dumb and Lupin thought anyone who zealously liked them was quaint, but the both of them would die for a newly hatched sea turtle.  So they figured this was a good way to spoil some poaching plans and steal some wifely diamonds while they were at it.

Jigen leaned against the doorframe to the bedroom of their suite, arms crossed.  He was dressed all tall-dark-and-handsome in a suit, his hair slicked back and hat tipped just slightly.  He looked like a million bucks and, Lupin noticed, said million bucks was watching him with an appreciative smirk in the background of the full-length mirror.  

Lupin picked up his black knit sweater off the bed.  He shuffled it on, and by the time he was pulling down the hem, the man had loped across the room with slow, deliberate steps. 

While Lupin adjusted the sleeves, clinging tightly to his form, his partner molded around his back. Hands slid loosely around Lupin’s waist to clasp over each other at his belt buckle, and soon Jigen’s chin came to rest on his shoulder.  For a minute, Lupin looked at the two of them in the mirror, his eyes smoldering and expectant.

But Jigen’s only move was to sway back and forth languidly, delivering a series of slow, happy rumbles into his boss’s neck. 

Soon, the sharp look in Lupin’s eyes was replaced with a soft musing, and he leaned back into Jigen’s arms.  One hand rested over the man’s, sliding into the grooves between his knuckles; the other reached up to rub the side of Jigen’s neck, brushing that beautiful mane of wavy obsidian away.

“Who needs disguises when you’ve got black turtleneck sweaters?” Jigen husked, seeking out Lupin’s ear to kiss.  “You could have the whole world on a platter if you just dressed like this regularly. No thievery required.”

“Heh, thank you.  But I guess I like a challenge.  And a warm climate.”

“Heh, it gets into the fifties at night in the Bahamas,” Jigen murmured into his partner’s neck, waiting for a return kiss to come as his lips brushed skin. 

But it didn’t.  In fact, Lupin stiffened up against his stubble, and when Jigen’s grey eyes flicked up to behold him in the mirror, it was to find a faraway look on Lupin’s frame.

Before he could say anything, his boss suddenly gasped, a grin scrawling across his freshly-shaven face.  His hands, against Jigen’s at his belt line, gripped tightly, like he needed both sets of hands to hold the enthusiasm in. 

“You know what I need to steal?” Lupin asked in wonderment, half pulling away to seek out Jigen’s face.  He had a huge grin on his face.

“…Wool?”

“The formula for Vantablack!”

Jigen finally came fully off of Lupin then, his head tilted.  “I…what?  Why?”

“I can think of so many heists to use it in… And a way to avenge all my fellow artists wronged by that dick Anise Kapour!”

Jigen backed up and stared, blankly.  The sheer enthusiasm running through his body—and the extremely attractive shape of it in that black knit fabric—alongside the non sequitur statement totally derailed Jigen’s brain.  This must have been what it was like every time Lupin looked at Fujiko in a little black dress.

“All right Jigen, get your hat and let’s go.”

“Go where…?”

“Chicago!” he announced, finger in the air.  “Hey, Goemon?  Do you have time after this?  Say in a couple weeks—”

And with that, he was already out of the room.

Jigen just sighed and made a mental note to pack a turtleneck himself, next time.  For the…“undercover work.” 

 

#5 - Bonus

 

A few days later, the steam was running in the shower when Lupin awoke.  The whole gang had converged upon their suite, but there were enough rooms to pick your bedfellow.  So with Jigen still in bed beside him, and Goemon on a futon made of couch cushions in the living room, he knew who the culprit steaming up the place was.

And he had every intention of being part of that action.

“Good morning~,” he trilled as he shut the door behind him.

“Good morning hun,” came Fujiko’s voice through the opaque shower curtain.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just wondering if I could join you.”

There came the sound of an amused scoff. “Last night wasn’t enough?”

Lupin smirked, already shirking off his clothes.  “Was Zeus ever able to resist a wet naiad?”

As she chuckled, he climbed in, drawing and shutting the curtain politely.  Fujiko was under the water rinsing off her body; Lupin lingered in the back of the space to admire it. 

To the hum of the water, his eyes traced over her curves in the morning light. The water glinted off of them and her long tresses plastered against them, all to a backdrop of sandy stone… 

“You were lovely last night, babe,” he offered, voice still gravelly from sleep.  Fujiko smiled a little to herself at that—until he she turned around and saw the look in his eye.

Lupin was looking her up and down appreciatively, from his spot sitting on the shower’s bench.  It was a three-person shower with rainheads and warm-hued travertine on every surface, so there was plenty of room to admire a golden Venus in the watery nude—and from the look in his eye and smile on his face, he was certainly imagining a few things. Though, it must be said, had the decency to politely clasp his hands over his lap.

“Don’t you love hotel showers? God, the gifts Marriott bestows upon us poor mortal souls,” he replied to her stare.

 _Oh no_ , Fujiko thought, in the very vulnerable—and unbecoming—state of having her hands full of shampoo lather. _He’s being poetic._

“You look as good as I thought you would, as soon as I saw this thing.”  He waved idly to the shower walls.

“I assume you and Jigen broke it in a little?”

Lupin’s mouth opened, but whatever he was going to say got lost in a hard blush and an embarrassed smile he tried to bite down.

Fujiko waggled her finger at him. “Naughty naughty, little horsey.”  She winked and turned back to the water. 

Lupin sputtered loudly.

“I know what you two do when I’m not here.”

He coughed some more, and for a little bit, she was left with some quiet time.  But soon enough, he valiantly attempted a recovery, determined not to lose the war: “Oh, well, Jigen and I have certainly had some fun already.” Lupin shrugged as he stood.  “But I left this beautiful Roman bath for you.  I never _did_ get to properly welcome you that first night…”

Fujiko huffed as she worked the lather out of her hair.  “Lupin, that’s lovely, but. Honest to god, I need to go somewhere this morning.  I don’t have time to blow you.”

“That’s fine,” he replied, groping her breasts heartily and setting a kiss on her neck as he molded around her back.  She paused and whined a little bit—a bit she wouldn’t admit to, he thought—as he fondled the part of her breasts that he knew were often sore.  “That’s not what I’m here for, though that could be negotiated too.  You know I’ll always make time to service a lovely lady, especially one I like...”

“Lupin, oh my god,” she grumbled, batting at him.  “I’m serious, you know.  It takes time to look as good as I need to, I can’t waste time screwing every guy I meet along the way in my day.”

“I know,” he rumbled, drawing another slow kiss from her shoulder and running his hands down her sides.  “A pity for my fantasies though.” 

His tongue was a little hard to ignore, it was true.

“…Yeah, yeah, you and everybody else.”

Her complaint was only half-hearted, however, and for a moment, a truce was drawn.  He held her tightly, the water running down her front and his arms.  She leaned into him just enough to show the trust was there, her hands over his.

But eventually, he kissed her neck and released her.  They switched places in the water, all business, a little smile on each face.

“By the way,” Lupin said.

When she turned back around, Lupin wasn’t in the water where he was supposed to be.  He was right up next to her, putting his hand on the shower wall and leaning in nose-to-nose.  Fujiko startled, soap bottle in hand and eyes flashing. 

The water continued to stream behind them.  But her rival’s dark, handsome smile just ticked its manicured eyebrows a little as it showed off its pearly-white teeth.  “Can I have 20 bucks?”

“ _What?_ ” she snapped, confounded. 

He swooped in to steal a brief kiss and then stepped back, eyeing her—and his work upon her frame—with a smug look before turning back around.

Fujiko gaped for several seconds.  “What?  The hell?” she squawked.  “You interrupted my gold-and-travertine shower time to be _a_ _scrub_?!”

“In quarters,” Lupin clarified, going for the bodywash.  “…And nickels and pennies,” he added as an afterthought.

“What in the world do you need twenty dollars in coins for?  A toll bridge?”

He glanced at her a moment longer than necessary, and then hedged, “…Alloy experiments.”

“Christ, Lupin.”  Her beautiful face turned disappointed, and he quickly put his back to her, shoulders hunched.

“What? My dealer’s out of town.”  She could tell he was pouring some of the inexplicably blue liquid into his palm.

“Jesus,” she said, slapping her hands down on her thighs.  “Normal criminals have drug dealers, not fucking…I don’t know, weird tech scrap dealers…?”

“And that’s why they’re boring,” he lobbed back with just as much shade.  “You wouldn’t fuck a dude with a drug habit, admit it.”

“Well, I _would_ , but only once.”

“Exactly.”  Lupin shrugged like this was all so very pedantic and scrubbed the soap over himself.  She watched this, and unfortunately, a lot of her annoyance drifted away for a dry mouth.  

He was just _so_ her body type. And in the water, his skin was so supple and his muscles so pronounced, and…sigh.

The next thing Lupin heard was the sound of the water’s rhythm being disrupted. Hands slid over his biceps and down the length of his arms to his forearms.  He stilled and hummed appreciatively as soft mounds press into his back, then even more of her. 

“You’re a thief,” Fujiko sighed into his left shoulder, kissing the back of it.  And then, she rose up onto her tip toes to whisper into his ear in her most seductive tone, “Why don’t you just rob Jigen’s change jar?”

A shiver went down Lupin’s back—but he replaced it with a chuckle.  “Because that would be a breach of trust and make me a really shitty boss besides.”  He set the bodywash bottle on the built-in shelf, then turned around and beamed her a movie star smile, his hands on his hips as the water poured down his back. 

All wet like that, Fujiko couldn’t help but stare at his pecs and abs, and the feathery blue-black hair around his head that nearly matched the color of his mischievous eyes.  And then…the equipment a little farther… _south_.

“Now, are you getting cold back there?” he quipped, wiggling his hips.  “‘Cuz I got a few minutes to warm youuu uu-uup…~”

“ _Hmmm…_ ~” She set her own stance atilt and flashed him a smirk.  Locked eyes with him, in a way that never failed to draw him near, and then swirled a finger on his chest as he came.  His hands settled on her hips, fingers drumming against them, as she smoothed the water away from his hard shoulders.  Lupin came in nearer, until he was pressed up against her; her hands continued to slide down his sides, while his settled on her buttocks as a way to pull her into him.

“ _Fujiko_ ,” he grumbled into her skin, nipping at the tender place where her neck and shoulder connected.

She gasped and giggled as his morning scruff tickled her skin; tangled her fingers in his hair as his hands grew rougher.  She could feel his erection growing against her pelvis, and soon she slid a hand down between them to greet it.

He chuckled then; the stupid, pleased, heady kind that signaled he thought he’d won, and for a while, she just enjoyed the sight of the water over his shoulder as he moaned and panted against her, each of them touching the places they knew the other liked.

Lupin was a wild child for sure—you didn’t get to be a syndicate boss by being nice—but he was a clean lay that genuinely liked her, and underneath it all, he was a cheery personality.  He’d screw her face-to-face just as much as anything else, which said a lot about how it wasn’t all just a conquest to him. 

In fact, he had a foreplay style that was as playful as it was dark and smoldering (and which often included Jigen too), but by the time you got down to it, he was the kind of guy that would entwine all around you just to get more skin contact.  He loved the touch of another person, desperately craved it perhaps, and so when he started wrapping himself all around her yet again this morning, she knew it was time to push him off—or else they’d never get anything done today.

“What do you say?” he whispered, stealing a kiss from her carotid as he bent down.  One of his dexterous hands slid between her legs, two fingers caressing the heat there, and the delectable rumble in his voice didn’t help matters.  “Can I get you to do some painting, my beautiful work of art?”

 “Hmmm…” She bared her throat to him and hummed; sought out his chin with her free hand and drew him into a series of wet, deep kisses.  His hands came up to clutch her arms, and soon he was wrapped all around her again, one hand in her hair and the other across her back.

“I _really_ want to fuck you,” he whisper-growled into her ear.  “Right here.  Right now.  Until you come moaning my name.”

“Aww, that’s too bad,” she wheedled with some effort (not the least of which reason was because he was starting to nibble her ear), “because I really need a coffee.”

She gripped the base of his shaft hard, causing him to hiss and flinch back.  He looked her up and down like the saddest man on earth, his brain having trouble switching gears.

“Bye~”  She gave him a quick kiss and then squeezed him again, forcing him to lean against the nearby wall for balance.  She used it as her chance to duck out, sharply shutting the curtain behind her.

“Fujikoooo,” he called balefully.

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you hanging.  I’ll send in Jigen,” she called from the other side of the shower curtain, quickly wrapping her towel around herself.  “After all, I’m sure he won’t mind a twenty-dollar blowjob.  Though that makes you a really cheap whore, Lupin.”

She could hear Lupin suck in a breath of scandal.  “You bitch,” he swore with a smile, impressed and shocked all at once.  “You fabulous bitch.”

“Yeah yeah,” Fujiko waved as the last of her hair disappeared out the door.  “But that’s why you like me.”

He chuckled, rubbing his neck with one hand.  “It is.”

“Byyyye, rain check for later?” she asked as she shut the door.

As soon as it was clear she wasn’t coming back, Lupin sighed and leaned his head against the tile.  “Fuck.”

He couldn’t help but smile, though, underneath his mop of wet hair—and keep his hand working lazily.

It was just as he was starting to whisper her name to himself and was considering getting on his knees that there came a knock at the door, which she hadn’t bothered latching.

“Did someone ask for me?” Jigen asked as the door swung open, sounding perplexed.  He was apparently about to cook breakfast now, an apron on, his hair tied back, and a dry spatula in-hand.

Lupin waited a moment, considering the water and the apron and debating his options.  But soon, he poked his head out of the curtain and, half smirking, half frowning, asked, “Hey, Jigen.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have a hundred bucks?”


End file.
